


Made of Neon Lights

by wheniwasanalien



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Anger, Arguing, Blood, Cigarettes, Drugs, Frustrated Louis, Gen, Hookups, Kisses, Making Up, Masturbation, Physical Abuse, Punk Niall, Sad Harry, Smut and Angst, Substance Abuse, cheating sort of, maybe a little fluff, non consensual between couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheniwasanalien/pseuds/wheniwasanalien
Summary: It seems lately all Harry and Louis do is argue, have angry sex, and party til they can’t even remember why they were mad. They go through the toxic cycle week after week, until one day, it all comes crashing down.





	Made of Neon Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was orginally written with a different ship so please excuse any wrong names or wrong descriptions.
> 
> I love comments!!! Please leave some and tell me what you think I desperately crave validation.
> 
> Also this is in no way meant to glamorize abusive relationships. In fact its meant to show how emotionally and mentally damaging they can be to everyone involved.

I barely remember a time when things weren't like this between him and I.

The weekends are good; they always have been. Party after party, bar after bar, filling our heads with alcohol until our thoughts are too fuzzy to know where exactly we're going or what we're doing. It's fun while it lasts, I suppose, but then Sunday arrives. The hangovers are brutal, and both of us are highly irritable and have a tendency to get on each others nerves. Harry is extremely sensitive in his post-drunk state, taking every one of my sarcastic comments to heart. He cries in the shower, never to my face, but I can hear him through our house's thin walls. I ask him what's wrong, he hits me, tells me to shut up. It's a defense mechanism, I presume. Most times it doesn't hurt, but there were a few particularly brutal incidences involving broken bottles and nonconsensual sex. They were rare of course, normally only occurring when Harry has turned to whiskey as a method of dealing with his many emotions, but that didn't make them any less scarring.

Now, I am afraid, is one of those incidences. He seems angrier than usual, snapping and throwing the nearest object to him, a plastic coffee travel mug, across the room at me as soon as I ask if he's alright. "Fuck off," he murmurs as he slides into a seat at our dining room table, leaning forward to lay his head on the table.

"You obviously aren't alright," I respond, picking up the projectile coffee mug and leaning against the marble top counter. I held up the mug. "You're throwing things. For most three year olds, thats a sign that something's off."

He banged his fist on the table. "I'm not a three year old!"

I grin at that, with full knowledge that my next comment is going to bring about my downfall. "You're right, you're acting more like a bratty sixteen year old girl whose daddy won't let her take the Porsche out for a drive." His head flies upward, and his furious eyes meet mine. "Grow the fuck up."

"You're a bitch," he snaps back as he rises from his seat, not bothering to push it back in.

"Excellent word choice. Very intelligent." I turn my back, pretending to take a sip from the empty travel mug, when suddenly something hits my back, and I can feel every molecule of oxygen exiting my lungs at the same exact second. I fall forward, mug and all, my knees bending just enough to break my fall, but not enough to prevent me from hitting my nose on the counter.

"What the fuck, Harry!" I shout as I struggle to rise to my feet. I turn, hand on my nose, to see him storming towards me. The chair he had been sitting in is now laying on its side atop the linoleum, one leg seeming to have popped loose.

"I'm sick of you treating me like a little kid!" He shoves me down again, which causes the blood from my possibly broken nose to spray upwards into my eyes as my head makes contact with the floor. He leans over me, probably preparing to stomp down on my stomach, but before he can, I thrust my foot upwards into his stomach, the impact of my kick sending him flying backwards into the chair he'd broken. "What the hell!" he shouts, picking up the chair's now unattached leg and wielding it as a weapon as I loom over him, bleeding now from my nose and my busted lip. He strikes at my shins as I dodge his blows, bringing my foot down on his crotch. He shrieks in pain, doubling over, but not before sending the chair leg flying in the direction of my own crotch.

Thankfully, it merely bounces off, causing minimal pain. Harry and I wrestle for a few seconds, him fighting to grab the chair leg and me fighting to take it from him. At last, I succeed, and whip it across the room so that neither of us can utilize it.

I'm on top of him now, holding him down to prevent him from causing any further damage. I'm stronger than him, but his little limbs feel like steel baseball bats as he beats them against my ribs and back. He seems to grow weaker with every strike, however. His punches resonate less in my chest, he's breathing heavy. He slows down, panting, as he looks up at me.

There are tears forming in his eyes, despite his attempts to keep them in. His face is turning red, and he's a volcano of mixed emotions. He squints his eyes, looking at me. A single tear trickles down his face as his small, pale hand is raised. He slaps me. It stings, yet I don't move an inch. "Goddamnit, Lou," he mumbles through gritted teeth, wiping his face with the extra fabric from his too-big shirt's sleeves that has balled around his hands. I recall him referring to them as "sweater paws" long ago, but that was long before all this, long before the parties and the alcohol and the new house.

"What the hell are you doing, Harry?" I whisper as I remove my weight from my arms and allow myself to lay my chest down against his. Instinctively, he reaches out a hand to stroke my hair, which desperately needs cut. "Were you drinking again?"

Slowly, I see him nod. "I just need sleep." His words are slurred, and up close, his breath reeks of vodka. "Take me to bed," he mutters, lifting his head slightly. "Please."

I stand up slowly and extend a hand to assist him. He stumbles at first, but I catch him in my arms and steady him. "Fuck," I mumble as I realize that the faucet from my injured nose has soaked both of our shirts. "You should change first."

He nods in response, holding my bloody hand in his as we make our way up the stairs to the bedroom. He shivers as I help him remove his shirt, taking a moment to touch his chest and gaze upon his beautiful body. It's been so long since we've gotten intimate, I almost forget what it looks like sometimes. I trace his collarbone as he pulls on the shirt I handed him, remembering every hickey I ever left upon them. I miss it.

"Harry?" I say as he crawls underneath the layers of blankets he insisted on having on our bed. 

"What?" His voice is sleepy and slow paced. I predict I only have a minute to talk before he falls asleep.

"Do you think maybe we could, y'know, have sex sometime soon?"

"Mmmm." He's already fading. "Don't have to ask, there are snacks in the kitchen."

I roll my eyes, unable to tell if he's joking or just that out of it. "No, Harry, not snacks. Sex. Like, as in, my dick inside you? Ring any bells?"

No response. I sigh as I sit down on the edge of the bed beside him. I run a hand down his comatose body. He's fallen asleep on his back, and I pause for a moment as my fingertips brush his blanket covered bulge. I would love very much to, as this moment, tear off his blankets, put him in my mouth, make him scream with pleasure rather than anger or fear for once. However I force myself to remove my hand and leave the room, closing the door behind me. It would be downright cruel to wake him up for such a reason. He made it clear to me that he desperately needed to sleep of his alcohol, therefore I am willing to give him all the time he needs.

I masturbate in my study for awhile after that. Harry isn't here to look over my shoulder and forcefully steal my mouse so he can check my browsing history, so I take full advantage of my freedom. It's been so long since I've had sex, or jerked off for that matter, that every stroke of my hand feels electric. I hope I don't wake my Sleeping Beauty up with how loudly I'm moaning, pretending it's his hand moving along my cock rather than my own. I am fully unaware of how sad all this is: it's not like I'm a fifteen year old boy with a nearly permanent boner anymore. I'm twenty four, with a boyfriend and a house of my own, yet here I am beating it to straight vanilla porn at eleven o'clock on a Sunday. I should be upstairs right now with Harry, rolling around under the sheets with him and doing all sorts of unspeakable things. But for whatever reason, Harry’s libido has been completely nonexistent lately. Even when we aren't fighting, I'll attempt some foreplay and he immediately shuts me down. I miss the early days of our relationship, when we laughed and had meaningful conversations all day then fucked our brains out all night. Now it seems like all we do is hate each other.

Still, I know that isn't true. Even now, despite how violent things got earlier, it's still him that I wish was touching me. He's the one whose name I groan as I come. I've decided to sleep on the couch in my study tonight, to prevent any further arguments. As I cuddle myself up underneath my singular blanket, I can't help but wish I'd poured myself a glass of wine before settling into my temporary bed. However, it's gotten late, and my mind is already cloudy, therefore it isn't long before I drift off to sleep.

I dream of Harry. He's climbing all over me, completely naked, tearing off my clothes like price tags. We don't have sex, but he teases me, kisses me, makes me think that for a moment I almost have a shot at fucking him.

I wake up hard, but I'm thankful I didn't come in my sleep. The next day is all the same. Breakfast, work, the traffic on the freeway. I don't see Harry until I come home, but I assume it's for the best. When I walk in, he's sitting on the counter, a lighter in his right hand and one of my cigarettes in his left. Noticing my shock at his sudden habit, he nods in acknowledgment. "Don't act so surprised. That smoke you smell constantly isn't coming from just you."

"You always hated smoking, especially when I did it inside." He shrugs. I put my bag down on the counter and hop up beside him. "Pass me one." He obliges, and before long the two of us have smoked a whole pack between us. The smoke is thick and asphyxiating, and I hop off the counter to open up a window. "We could send smoke signals with this."

He chuckles briefly. "How much does smoking raise our chances of getting cancer?"

"We're about twenty something percent more likely to get lung cancer than non smokers."

"Good." He hops off the counter. "I'm going out tonight."

I can't help but pout. "Harry, you really shouldn't drink during the week."

"So I'm allowed to get completely shit faced on weekends but I'm not allowed to do a few shots with my friends on a Monday night?"

"Our friends aren't going out tonight." I put extra emphasis on 'our'. "I know you just want to go get wasted off of cheap whiskey. I'm not an idiot."

He glares at me as he grabs his coat. "I don't give a shit, I'm going. It just means you can spend your night jerking off in peace." He lets the door slam beside him as he exits, leaving me to stare at the empty space beside me on the counter where he sat only moments before.

I don't spend my night jerking off. 

Even if I wanted to, I don't think I'm able to get myself hard anymore. I've grown so used to using my hand that my dick has stopped responding to it. Harry doesn't give a shit though. If I were dying and having sex with me was the only way to save me that bitch still wouldn't bang me.

Instead, I sit on the porch and gaze out into the quiet neighborhood, smoking my last pack of cigarettes and wondering which bar or strip club Harry is at. I bet he's having a good time, sweating and sinning amongst naked women and lustful men. It makes me sick, but I'm no better than him. Harry always calls me a sex addict, but I never believed him until I was forced into withdrawal. Without sex, my life lacks so much color and warmth. Lately I feel almost as cold and dead as I felt before I met Harry.

I need that feeling back. I cannot let myself fall back into numbness. Even if I can only get a taste of it, or just a fleeting moment. I truly believe that it is vital to my survival.

I decide to go for a drive after that. I don't go anywhere in particular. I make an effort to try to notice every color I can as I go; street signs, cars, stop lights. I drive fast, and I smirk as a memory enters my mind of Harry clinging to my arm as I sped through the city and begging me to slow down. I didn't slow down, not then or ever.

I squinted as my eyes met the neon lights, the curvaceous form of a woman's silhouette illuminated in the color pink. The sign beneath it read, "GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS". I sighed as I pulled into the parking lot. I'm not the woman made of neon lights. I'm the exact opposite of her, and the exact opposite of what Harry wants. 

However, as I drive my car around the parking lot, I don't see any cars that even resemble Harry's. Although I'm happy that he's being faithful, I'm almost disappointed that I can't seem to reach him no matter how much effort I put forth, in both a literal and figurative sense.

I drive home after my failed attempts at locating my boyfriend. He still isn't home as I crawl underneath our blankets, but I try to avoid thinking of him, as I doubt he's thinking of me.

The following morning, I wake alone in bed, and walk into the kitchen to find Harry passed out on the floor. I don't wake him, but I do lean down to brush his face with the back of my hand. God, as cliche as it sounds he looks so sweet when he sleeps. As I stare down at him, taking in his vulnerability, staring at that body of his, a disgusting thought enters my mind. "No!" I say, out loud, hoping that the sound of my own voice will shake me into believing how wrong it would be to take advantage of Harry while he was virtually roofied. He has to be awake, I think to myself. He has to at least pretend to want it.

I'm distracted all day at work. The day seems to pass like a kidney stone, slow and painful, but I'm not complaining. It just gives me more time to work out how I can possibly seduce Harry when I got home.

"Hi, baby!" I shout excitedly as I walk in the door, dropping my keys off on the counter.

Harry is standing in a corner of the kitchen, staring at his phone while it charges. "Oh hey, Louis," he mumbles, not bothering to look up from his phone for even a second to greet his boyfriend. I feel my heart beginning to ache, yet I decide to stick with my plan.

"You look amazing today, babe," I purr as I walk over to him to plant a kiss on the side of his head.

He looks up at me. "Are you high?"

"Not at all! I'm just excited to see my beautiful boyfriend!"

Harry frowns and leans into the corner, setting his phone down. "Lou, my hair's unwashed, my breath stinks, and I think I have someone else's puke on me from last night."

I roll my eyes and push him playfully. "Stop it, you look sexy." I lean in for a kiss, but I'm shocked when he pushes me away. "What was that for?"

"Not right now, Lou," he murmurs as his phone buzzes, and he picks it up to respond to the text he just received.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Texting some girl?" Fuck my plan to be nice to him. If he was going to ignore me for stupid sluts and cheap alcohol, then I felt it was only fair for me to be a cunt to him.

Harry shoots me a look. His eyes alone seem to say 'how dare you?'. "Actually, yes I was. It was a woman texting to schedule a job interview with me for tomorrow."

Ever since Harry lost his job, things have definitely been harder for us. However, at the moment, I don't care if I'm fucking him in a mansion or underneath a bridge. I just need to feel myself inside of him.

"You tease me too much, Haz. It's almost unfair." I run a hand through his eyes and smirk at the confusion in his eyes as I push him back against the wall.

"Louis, what are you doing?" His eyebrow arches as I continue to back him into the corner. I lean in to kiss him, pinning him against the wall. He struggles at first, then eventually surrenders and meets my rhythm flawlessly. As I pull away, I gaze into his wide, confused eyes, searching for some hint as to what the hell could possibly be swimming in that head of his. "Oh, God."

I lean in closer, pressing my chest to his, our crotches brushing and our fingers tangling together. "You're so fucking hot, baby," I whisper into his ear, feeling my own hot breath as it bounces off his temple. I take my hands away from his and lean in towards him to kiss him again, tracing his jawline with one hand, and sliding the other down to his crotch.

"Lou, I'm not really in the mood for this," he mumbles, turning his head to break our kiss. I don't remove my hand from his bulge.

"I'll get you there," I murmur back, leaning to bite at his ear quickly before skillfully unzipping his pants. "Let me make you feel good, Haz."

He's blushing hard. I can tell he's getting angry, but he knows there's no way I'm surrendering at this point. He says nothing, but I interpret his silence as consent as I pull down his pants then his boxers, allowing his erection to spring free. "Turn around, baby." I don't have lube, but its too late for that now, so I simply spit into my hand and slather the saliva over my dick.

He obeys, slowly, exposing to me that perfect ass that I missed so much. He bristles as I touch him, but I make sure to enter him slowly. He leans more heavily on the wall as I slide the rest inside. He releases a sound best described as a squeak as I pull out, almost entirely, then thrust forward once again. He's leaning his sweaty forehead against the wall, and I'm leaving purple bruises all along his perfectly formed collarbones. It doesn't feel nearly as good as when he actually tries, but it's a major improvement from what I was getting before.

Eventually he begins moaning, which I first think means he's getting at least some enjoyment out of this, but then the moans turn to sobs. My own moans turn to sobs as well. My boner is virtually nonexistent as I pull out of him, not even waiting until I come. Before I know what's happening we're laying there together, pants at our ankles, bawling on our kitchen floor.

"That- that hurt, Lou," he uttered through tears. "It really really hurt."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I sob, burying my face in his shirt fabric. "I thought it would be fine with no lube, you should've told me-"

"I did tell you Louis!" he snapped, rolling away from me. "I told you I didn't want to but you were so fucking horny that you did it anyway!"

"You never want to! Maybe I wouldn't have to force you to if you'd actually act like you were still in love with me!"

"I do love you!" I stood up slowly as he began crawling to his knees, just in case he decided to throw a punch or a kick, or a chair for that matter. "I just don't want to have sex with you anymore!"

I feel my sinuses beginning to burn, as they have been known to do when I feel like crying. "Why not? You used to love sex!"

"I'm not gay, Lou." My eyes widen as he turns to face me. "At least not totally. I love you, and I love being with you, but I have never loved having sex with you."

The tears I have been holding back are now streaming down my face. "What- what the hell, Harry," I whisper. I turn my head, as I can no longer face him. He lied to me. "You used me."

He snorts angrily. "Oh goddamnit, you were an experiment! I never meant to fucking fall in love with you!" As soon as the words leave his mouth and I begin crying even harder, he realizes that he's gone too far. "Shit, Lou, I didn't mean that! Well it was true, but like-" He puts his hand on my shoulder, turning me around. Our eyes meet. "I loved you so much, I was willing to try anything to make you happy."

"I'm so sorry Haz." I lean in to kiss him, and thankfully he reciprocates. It isn't intense, but it's enough to at least assure me that he and I are okay.

"We both made mistakes," he whispers as I cling to him. "But we can fix them."

I sigh, leaning into him even more. "We can't have sex anymore. Like ever."

He rubs my back. Our positioning is awkward considering how much shorter he is than me, but it's comfortable. "Maybe we can work something out."

"You should top me."

He pulls away. "What?"

I swallowed, yet my mouth was completely dry. "Girls and guys both have assholes. You can fuck me."

He looked down at the floor, then back up at me. "Lou, I don't know. We could try it I guess. I don't want to hurt you though."

I step forward and run my fingers through his curls. "You won't hurt me, I just want you to be happy." I put my hands on his shoulder. My voice fades to a whisper. "I love you."

"When should we try it?" he asks. His tone seems guarded and he isn't looking up at me.

"Maybe... right now?"

He nods solemnly before grabbing my hand and leading me up the stairs to the bedroom. "I know I have condoms in my dresser, do you have lube?" he asks. I respond by tossing a bottle to him.

We both hop up onto the bed. "You know what to do right?"

"I'm not totally clueless. I'll do my best."

Since he already almost has a boner, a simple few strokes of his cock is enough to get him hard enough for penetration. The condom slides on with ease, and the lube smells good as he slathers it on. I lean back so he has easy access to my entrance, and he reacts to this by throwing my legs over his shoulders. "Oh, wow," I gasp involuntarily.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

He starts very slow. As his tip touches me and begins sliding into me, I can already feel that this is going to have painful consequences. But as long as it'll get Harry to want to have sex with me, I'm willing to sacrifice my ability to walk. He works his way in further, until I feel his full length inside me. I'm breathing heavy, but the initial pain has already begun to subside. He thrusts in and out, occasionally hitting what I assume is my prostate and causing me to grind my ass against him harder. "Oh, God, Haz," I moan as he runs his hands through my hair. "You're so good..."

His movements get faster and faster until he finally comes. He pulls out, throwing my legs aside, and tears off the condom. He stands to toss it in the bin. I assume he's going to come back to finish me off, but instead he puts his pants back on, leaving me naked on our bed. "What's wrong? Didn't you like it? I thought it was excellent." That was a lie. I knew he could do better if his heart was in it, and bottoming wasn't the same as topping, but I thought he could use the self esteem boost.

"Can you finish yourself off?" He asked as he made his way to the doorway.

"Harry!" I cried, rolling over so that I wasn't seeing him upside down. "Why are you acting like this?"

He shrugs his shoulders, leaning up against the doorframe. "I didn't like it that much." I feel my heart drop as he exits the room. From halfway down the hall, I can hear him say, "I'm not gay."

I could quite honestly tear my own heart out at this moment. How could he? I knew he probably liked anal sex with girls, what was so different when it came to me? Was he not into me anymore? He says he still loves me but God if this is love I never want to see his hatred. "Fuck you!" I scream towards the open door, though I doubt he even hears me or cares.

However, Harry shocks me by whipping his head around the corner. "Why the fuck does it matter so much? It's not like I was ever good enough at it for you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped as I began to put my clothes on. If Harry wasn't aroused by my body, there was no reason to be naked.

He walks across the room and sits down on the bed beside me. "You like it rough, and I don't like it at all. You didn't appreciate what I could give you, its not like you'll be suffering that heavy a loss."

"Don't you ever say I didn't appreciate what you gave me. I would sell my fucking soul if it meant that I could touch you again," I mumble. "I'd give up eternity for you to love me again. But giving hasn't gotten me anywhere lately."

"I do love you," he whispers softly, running his hand through my hair. "I just can't have sex with you anymore, Lou."

I bat his hand away. "Then what's the fucking point, Haz? I have to deal with your bad attitude and hide bruises from my coworkers just for a shitty false 'I love you'? Just forget it. You've gotten what you wanted. You always fucking do." With that, I storm out of the room, slamming the door in his face. He doesn't come after me.

I call in sick the following day. I'm already feeling like shit for practically raping my boyfriend last night. The last thing I need is to sit at a desk for hours with nothing to do but think. Instead, I opt to stay home and sleep. Harry has his job interview, which means I can sleep peacefully without being nagged by him. The day is long and boring. I don't exactly sleep all day, rather, I lay in my bed attempting to sleep but thinking instead of possible ways to fix things. Do I even want to fix things at this point? Is it even worth it?

That night when Harry comes in to go to bed, I silently get up from the bed and walk to my study to sleep. I'd rather sleep inside a dumpster than next to a boy who saw me as nothing more than a sexual experience. 

I don't have any dreams that night, or at least I don't remember if I did. It's probably for the best, I tell myself. They were probably about Harry.

The next morning, I'm woken by something shaking me. It isn't violent, but it's enough to get my sleepy brain even dizzier. "What?" I mumble, turning over to face whoever interrupted my rest.

Harry stares back at me, his blue eyes wide and worried. "We need to talk, Lou. About the other night."

"What's there to discuss? You don't like dick, I have a dick. Looks like I'm fucked," I snapped, then added. "Well actually neither of us are, and that's my problem."

"I feel bad. I really do love you, but its unfair that you don't get to have sex anymore if you want to." He breaks eye contact, opting to stare at the floor rather than at me. "I don't want to do this but... If you think you would rather date someone other than me, I understand..."

"Hazza, there's no one I want to be with more than you. That's why the no sex thing makes me upset, but I understand. I want sex, but I want you even more."

He sighs and reaches out to stroke my hand. "But I can't have sex with you, so what are we gonna do?"

"I have an idea." It's a stupid-as-fuck idea that might end in our downfall, but at the moment I'm willing to try anything. "Its simple," I explain. "Each of us go out and spend a single night with any person of our choice. Exes, strangers, really anyone as long as they don't have any STDs."

His eyebrows knit together as he reflects on this concept. "I feel like that might cause problems between us."

"It's a hookup, Harry. It isn't cheating if you and your partner both say its okay."

He still appears unconvinced and nervous. "I've never had a hookup, Lou. I don't trust strangers, so I'd have to go find one of my exes, who are all girls. Would you be okay with that?"

"One night," I respond, my tone cold and serious. "Then we continue life as usual."

He nods slowly. "I... I would really love to see Townes one more time, if she'd be up for it. What night should I tell her?"

"Friday night. Then on Saturday morning we meet back here to get ready for this weekend's parties." I lock eyes with him. "And you better come back."

He nods slowly. "Okay, I will."

I wait until later that night to call my partner of choice: an old flame named Niall who I hadn't hooked up with in years. He was hot though, despite his many piercings and shitty attitude.

"Hello?" He answers. He has that same voice that used to drive me crazy, especially when he vocalized in bed.

I'm not sure of how he's going to react to me calling him, and frankly I'm sort of worried. The two of us only call each other to catch up once a year at most, and its always a bit awkward. "Hello Niall, it's me, Louis."

"What do you want, faggot?" Niall hisses into the phone. The word hurts at first, at least coming from him. Of course, then I recall all the times I fucked him in the ass and the statement suddenly seems a million times less relevant.

"You. Me. This Friday night. We have to go to your place though." I keep things short, trying not to bring up anything even slightly related to our shared past.

Things on his end are silent for a moment. "What about Harry?"

"Shit's rough between us. At least everything but the sex is. He doesn't want to bang at all anymore."

Another pause. "Alright, fine. Come in through the back like you used to." He's whispering, and I can hear glasses clinking and people talking, so I imagine he must be at some sort of bar.

"Really, drinking on a Thursday? Don't you have work tomorrow?" I scoff as I hear him bring a glass to his lips. "You haven't changed, Niall."

He laughs. "Not all true. I had to ditch the mohawk."

I laugh. It isn't genuine like his. "See you tomorrow, slut. Stay classy."

I decide to sleep in my actual bed tonight. "Did you call Townes?" I asked him. He was turned sideways and cuddled into the fetal position facing away from me, and I was laying on my back with my hands behind my head.

"Yeah, I did. She said she's down but only if you say it's okay."

"It's okay." I roll over onto my side so that I can spoon him. "I called Niall and he and I are on for tomorrow."

"Oh, that's good," he mumbles, already half asleep. 

"It's going to be a good day tomorrow, Haz," I whisper to him. A few minutes later he begins snoring, and I too fall fast asleep dreaming of all the excitement tomorrow night holds.

The following day, work is slow and painful, but I don't let it dull my mood. As I make myself a cup of coffee, one of my coworkers pauses to ask if I'm okay.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I respond, taking a swig of my coffee and grinning at the woman.

She blushes slightly. I hope she isn't into me, because I have got news for her. "Well, you're smiling and humming, which is rare for you. But I'm glad you're in a good mood." She smiles at me, her countenance almost as bright as the shiny crucifix around her neck. As she walks away I wonder how she would react to me telling her that the reason I'm so happy is because I have a hookup with a guy later.

The drive to Niall’s house is right between long and short, just like Niall’s dick. He lives in a shitty town where everyone smokes weed and is unemployed, but its the perfect scene for him. The walk to the back of his house is a scary one, especially at night, but its the best way for him to assure that no one suspects his homoerotic tendencies.

I remember the first time I walked up these steps, back when I was seventeen and Niall was nineteen and still had his signature mohawk. He didn't look nearly as cool without it. In fact, he looked sort of normal and, admittedly, quite sad. I was nervous on the way up back then, worrying if it was going to hurt and if he was going to be gentle, as he was so much heavier. However, at that point I had no clue that Niall was actually one of the most submissive bottoms I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

I knock on the old metal screen door, and am met with the angry barking of a dog. "Shut the fuck up!" I hear Niall scream at it as he fights to open up the door and hold the beast back at the same time. "Hey handsome, what's the craic?" He says as I walk in. The dog, a giant black Labrador by the looks of it, continues to bark at me. "Don't mind Precious, she just gets excited about new people." I shoot the dog a look as Niall leads her into a room and locks her in. 

"Lovely dog, even lovelier neighborhood," I comment as he returns. He grins at me, and I smirk back.

"Long time no see, Lou bear!" he shouts, completely unfazed by my sarcastic comments. I despise that nickname, but now matter how long we're apart he never forgets it. "How's life treating you?"

I shrug, forcing myself to keep my secret excitement in. "Horribly as usual. What about you? Find a girlfriend yet?"

He smirks and punches my shoulder, which I assume was meant to be light and friendly, but in reality hurt like a bitch. "Obviously not. What about yourself, princess? When's the last time you got any pussy?"

"It's been awhile I'm afraid, but thankfully now that I'm here with you I won't have to wait much longer."

He smiles devilishly, and together we walk back to his bedroom. We don't fool around much after that. Within a five minute period, we've already stripped off all our clothing aside from our underwear and taken things to the mattress. I forgot just how good it feels to be clung to by someone bigger than you. Harry isn't bad, but he's not much bigger than I am.

I'm on top of him when he finally starts tugging at my boxers. "What, you don't like them?" I tease. He pouts at me, and I tear them down. His eyes immediately dart to my crotch area. "You thirsty slut."

"God, I missed you," he groans as I begin pulling his boxers off. "I mean, I missed this." Of course he does. He's far too prideful and embarrassed of his sexuality to download Grindr, therefore I'm his only chance at a gay hookup. It's been approximately four years since our last one, however, so I can only imagine how he'll whine for me when I finally get inside him.

"Do you still like when I call you names?" I ask as he gets into position. On his knees, his ass out, his face buried in a pillow. He nods. "Of course you do, you filthy whore."

He stifles a moan the second I touch his ass with my hands. This time, I don't even feel bad for only using saliva as lube. Niall seems to love the pain for some reason. "Oh, shit," I hear him groan as I begin pushing myself inside.

"Should I take it easy on you, baby?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Never," he mumbles into the pillow. "I love it rough."

Things escalate from there. In crude terms, I completely pound Niall's ass, and he loves every minute of it. It's rougher than I've ever had it with anyone, let alone fragile little Harry, and I must say that I enjoy myself. 

The red lights of the digital clock beside the bed flash four thirty five. After hours of angry fucking, we collapsed in a heap, still tangled together and extremely sweaty. I'm laying on top of him now, my hands on his muscular chest and his on my ass. "Are you still up?" he asks quietly. I respond by flickering my tongue out and licking at one of his nipples. "Dude, quit it, that's fucking gay." He chuckles at his own ironic joke, then sighs, expanding and contracting his broad lungs beneath my head. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Niall..." I begin. "We just can't."

He sits up and glares at me. "Why can't we? Harry is a bitch anyway." I sit up as well, and he grabs onto my hand. "Remember what we had, Lou?"

"I do, unfortunately," I snap as I hop out of bed, pulling away from his grip. "I have to go, Niall. It isn't good for me to stay."

I put my clothes on, but he still doesn't get the message. "Noah, I thought you wanted me! You fucked me!" He puts on his boxers and follows me out the bedroom door.

"It was a hookup!" I hiss at him as I put my jacket on. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

"Please, Lou. I'm so lonely." It's almost sad to see him beg. There's pain in his eyes, and it's obvious that it's there because of me. "Don't leave me."

"We've tried this before, Niall, and it didn't work," I snap. "You and I are never going to be anything more than fuck buddies."

"How didn't it work? All I remember is you getting pissy about nothing and cutting me out of your life!"

"You fucked a girl in our bed, Niall! We were supposed to be dating, and that didn't mean anything to you then, so why should it now?" I'm fully aware of how harsh I'm being, but he's a big boy. He can handle it.

"Oh, you mean like how you're dating Harry yet you're here fucking me?" I draw back involuntarily as I realize how selfish I'm being, how totally wrong I am for being here.

"At least he knows! You just think you can do whatever you want and get away with it, don't you? Cheating, drugs, stealing, letting boys dick him down despite the fact that he's 'straight'. You name it, Niall's doing it! But he always gets off without any consequences!"

"Get out, bitch," he growls at me, balling his hands into fists.

"Oh what's that? I'm the bitch now? Very funny, considering the fact that you called me 'daddy' last night as I fucked you!" Suddenly, I feel something collide with my face: Niall's fist. The world seems to be in slow motion as I fall backwards into the wall. 

Niall rushes to help me up. "Holy shit, Lou, I didn't mean to clock you that hard! Are you okay?"

There are tears in my eyes as I stand to my feet, swatting Niall’s "helping" hands away. "No, you fucking cunt, I am not fine. In fact, I'm leaving right now, and so help me if you ever even think of contacting me again, I will personally contact the police to tell them exactly where everyone in this shitty town's getting their cheap crack." With that, I marched myself to the door, the front one, and slammed it behind me as I left. I feel like screaming "Niall’s a fag" as well, but right now my main concern is getting home as quick as possible, not revenge.

It's still dark outside, and I know Harry won't be home yet. I don't want to spend the rest of the night home alone, and I most certainly don't want anything to do with Niall, so I decide to drive around like I did on Monday night when I was almost certain that Harry was out with some other girl. Despite the fact that this time he really is with a girl, I strangely don’t seem to mind. I drive past the strip club once again, then decide to turn the car back around. I park underneath the big neon sign, and roll down my window just a bit so the smoke from my third cigarette of the day won't suffocate me. I don't go into the club, but I sit and watch the cars go past, and I wonder what they're thinking when they see me sitting here in my car smoking at one of the trashiest places in town. I watch men exiting to their cars, sweaty and horny as they drive home to their wives and children. I don't know if I relate more with the husbands or the wives at the moment.

When I finally walk in the house I'm absolutely starving. I head straight to the kitchen, and I barely notice Harry sitting at the dining room table. "Hey, stranger, how was your night?" he asks.

"It was alright, but nothing special," I inform him as I drop my coat on a chair.

"What did you guys do exactly?"

"You know, the classic, I fucked him, he called me daddy, he ate my ass. No big deal." I decide to leave out the part where he begged me to stay with him and then punched me in the face.

Harry’s eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

"No," I reply casually as I open up the cabinet to grab a box of Cheerios. "He didn't actually eat my ass."

"You... You fucked him?"

"Yes I did." I pour myself a bowl, cereal first of course. "How was Townes? Did you finally get to squeeze a tit?"

"Well," he began, looking down at the ground. His eyes are red, and I can already tell he's holding back tears. "She sucked my dick, and halfway through I started crying, and then she spent the rest of the night comforting and counseling me."

I abandon my cereal to hug him. "Oh baby, why were you crying?"

He clings to me tighter than he has in a long while. "It felt so... wrong," he says through sobs. "Why can't I enjoy sex, Lou? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing, baby." I lean forward to kiss the top of his head. "You used to like sex, didn't you? Like, with girls?"

He sniffs and buries his face in my shoulder. "I was a virgin when I met you, Lou. In every aspect of the word. Townes tried, but I just couldn't do it."

"But you said-"

"I was lying," he mumbled. "I didn't want you to hate me just because I didn't want you to fuck me."

"There's nothing wrong with you, and I could never hate you," I say softly as I tangle my fingers in his hair. "If you don't like sex, you don't have to have sex."

"What about you? I want you to be happy too."

"We'll figure it out, babe," I whisper as I lean down to kiss him. He reciprocates, quite avidly in fact, which gives me at least a small bit of hope that things can return to how they were. "Now let's get ready for tonight. You're gonna look so cute."

He nods, standing up and wiping stray tears from his cheeks. I walk to get my Cheerios so I can eat them on the run, then take his hand as we make our way upstairs to our bedroom. Not the bedroom. Our bedroom. Harry decides on an outfit for me, an maroon colored button up with a black tie and black dress pants, and I put it on without complaint. He decides to wear a lavender shirt with a white tie with khaki pants. We take a moment to stare at ourselves in the mirror for a moment. "You look so beautiful, baby," I mumble as I pull him into a hug. "I love you." He responds by tilting his head back to kiss me.

The drive to the party is quick yet enjoyable. Harry looks adorable as usual as he hops out of the car, and I make sure to tell him this. "You ready?" I murmur as he adjusts my tie.

"I sure am!" he says, his tone cheerful and tinged with excitement as we make our way to the door holding hands. "We're gonna have the best night ever."

The second we enter the room, Harry gives me our special look that means "text me when you find a designated driver" and he disappears into the crowd to catch up with friends, but not before leaning in to whisper a quick i love you. I watch him as he leaves to take another few shots, kiss a few girls that he could never love the way he loves me, maybe even do a line in a dirty bathroom. I guess I'm not as lucky as I could be. Things between me and Harry are by no means perfect. But at least I have a boy who will still kiss me even after I've spent an hour throwing up in a stranger's bathroom sink, who always seems to know a sober person who can drive us home, and most importantly, someone who will always forgive me no matter how many times I manage to mess things up. I barely remember a time when things weren't like this, but I wouldn't want it any other way.


End file.
